Cat and Mau5

Slowly but surely Gerard’s senses returned to him. Eventually he softened the painful grip he had on his controller and acute tinnitus gave way to the audience cheering, the announcer over the loud speaker and Mikey in his ear. Longer-than-standard blinks weren’t erasing the sight of Frank approaching the pyramid, so Gerard forced himself to turn back around, holding himself rigid as he stared straight ahead at his control station. El was looking down at him with what most would see as a blank stare but Gerard interpreted as concern.
“It’s okay,” he said tightly, jaw clenched. “It makes no fucking difference who it is.”

He ignored Mikey’s concerned noises in his ear and stretched out his controller wire, letting instinct dictate his movements in preparing for the match. There was no part of him that wasn’t soaked with tension, trying to ignore the part of his brain that was freaking the fuck out.

“Gerard!”
Mikey’s voice had been growing progressively more insistent as Frank ambled down the ramp and it had been chipping away at Gerard’s resolve.
“That’s him,” Gerard said, his lungs taking that as permission to violently empty. “It’s him. Frank from last night.”

Mikey’s silence on the other end was heavy. Gerard startled as he saw Frank enter the pyramid in the corner of his eye. He pointedly ignored him and looked straight ahead. It would have been easier to just swallow his pride and meet Frank’s eye, but he didn’t know how.

Frank’s presence in the adjacent chair was suffocating and Gerard took a few moments behind his shades to close his eyes, collecting himself as much as was possible. He was dimly aware of Frank setting up his equipment and something in his brain faintly sparked, reminding him that he should be doing the same thing.

Keeping one half of his consciousness trained on the man nearby – his apparent opponent what the fuck – the other half skimmed over his own stats. Mikey stayed mostly silent on the line. The referee milled about the ‘ring’ while the audience chattered during their wait.

“Are you ready, sir?”
Gerard looked up, a little startled by the ref’s voice and outstretched arm not quite touching him. He had no idea.

For the first time he allowed himself to look over at Frank, who was sitting comfortably in his chair, one leg folded underneath himself. Frank was already looking back at him, his chin braced on one hand while the other dangled between his knees holding his controller. He didn’t look nearly as freaked out as Gerard did, which was obvious once he realised that Frank had known about this all along. He’d known when he sat next to Gerard in the bar, he’d known when his hands had been skittering across Gerard’s skin and he’d known when Gerard had asked him to come to watch the match he would in fact be participating in.

The tattoos that Gerard had been fascinated by the previous night curled around Frank’s fingers, looking much more vibrant under the stage lighting. Gerard was almost certain that he was wearing the same pair of beat up jeans and a plain t-shirt, over which Frank had thrown a soft-looking red cardigan. His dark brown hair was all ruffled and dishevelled as if he’d just stumbled out of bed, which Gerard realised with a mortifying blush, he had.

It only took one quirk of Frank’s perfectly arched eyebrow to make his decision.

“Can we just have a minute?” he asked the referee, gesturing between Frank and himself, stomach dancing unpleasantly.

The ref granted his request immediately, waving his arm in a gesture that signified for them to ‘go ahead’. When Gerard pushed off his seat and Frank shortly followed the crowd erupted into rumbling curious chatter. Mikey muttered warnings into his ear which he swiftly dismissed.

They met in the space between their control units. The way Frank was looking at him with a bland smile only served to spike Gerard’s anger. However when he looked closer, the almond-shaped eyes didn’t look quite as calm. Before Gerard could even settle on what to say, Frank was speaking first through smiling lips.
“It’ll be worse if you make a scene.” His voice was only just loud enough to be heard. Gerard noticed the hand Frank had casually curled over the microphone tucked into one of the loopholes of his cardigan. “Just keep cool.”

Gerard looked at him behind his sunglasses for a few moments before concealing his own mic, shifting on his feet. He cocked his head, mouth set in a tight line.
“413?”
“Fr4nk13.”
Gerard shook his head, too many avenues of conversation zipping through his mind. He went for the simple mode of attack.
“What the fuck?”
“Don’t,” Frank smiled tightly. “Listen, Gerard-“
“No, you listen to me,” Gerard said, sharply but quietly. “This isn’t gonna work. I don’t know what the fuck you were trying to play, get me to go soft on you or something, but it’s not going to work. The fan spiel was really great, honestly; a subtle performance. I applaud you. But what happened afterwards was a mistake, alright? You go ahead, do a kiss and tell if that’s what you’re here for, see if I care. But it won’t stop me from kicking your ass.”

He turned on his heel and strode back to his control panel, not allowing Frank time to react. Gerard kept his teeth clenched as he reached for his controller, stretching out the wire again as he tried to ignore the curious murmurings of the crowd all around him.

“Sir?” The referee looked sort of concerned. “Are you ready to begin?”
Gerard nodded brusquely and waved him away. Eventually Frank gave up calling his name and sighed, also signalling that he was ready.

Gerard could feel the stress forming knots in the back of his neck and just wanted it to be over. His blood was boiling with humiliation. He wished he could erase everything that had happened after that fight with Tash. He wished he’d never walked into that bar, never leant forward for the first kiss and never allowed himself to feel that it was ever going to be more than a one-night stand.

But he couldn’t go back in time. The only thing he could do now was to not let it rattle him; to beat Frank and walk away.

For the first time since he called for a time out Gerard was really conscious of the silence in his ear.
“Mikey?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you mad?”
“I’m not mad.”
“…But?”
“But that was a stupid thing to do.”

Gerard thought about his team backstage. Covering the microphone would have obscured his words from the media crew but he was pretty sure by Mikey’s tone more than anything else that his own tech had picked up the sound. Which meant that he had one hell of a conversation with Perry waiting for him at the end of this match.
“Yeah,” he said, instead of arguing.
“Don’t worry about it, G. You’re about to hit 19 wins in a row.”
Gerard sucked in a sharp breath and nodded to himself.

The ring girl tottered into the pyramid and held the ‘Round 1’ placard high above her head with a gleaming smile. The way Frank raised his eyebrows at her cheekily set Gerard’s teeth on edge. Frank caught him looking and elaborately shrugged, shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

The referee counted them in.

Gerard was caught off guard by the speed of Frank’s first move and his mau5 took a sharp blow to the chest. Bristling, Gerard slammed a command on his control panel so hard that his palm stung. He executed the counter-attack, but the swift elbow to the cheek and punch to the head that Frank manoeuvred into smoothly left El sinking down on one knee.

Gerard’s blood was pumping so hard he could feel it. It pulsed thickly where the skin of his hands pressed tightly against the controller and it ran hot with anger.

Once again Gerard just managed to get in a punch before Frank’s mau5 put its paws on El’s shoulders, knocking her to her knees before booting her in the chest and laying her flat on her back.

Gerard’s stomach spiked with adrenaline as he cried out. His fingers flew over the controls, running on survival instinct. This isn’t it. This can’t be it.

“Get up! Get the fuck up!”
To his relief El responded quickly. She struggled up onto one knee but was once again laid out by a kick to her mid-section.

Eyes blown wide with madness Gerard looked over at Frank. The cocky smile he was met with almost made him nauseous. Frank’s legs were folded up on the chair and one arm was thrown over the back of it. His controller hung in his right hand, fingers poised to strike with the same move the next time El made it to her feet.

This couldn't be happening. Gerard was a fucking professional. He was the best, the fucking best. But he couldn't separate himself. He couldn’t distance himself from his opponent like he usually would, methodically strategizing until he was crowned victor. Gerard was all too aware who sat across from him, was all too aware how kind he’d been, how good he’d tasted.

He shook his head like it would help.
“Focus,” said Mikey in his ear. “Find another angle.”
Gerard nodded, mind racing a mile a minute to find a solution.

Quick as a flash he had El brace her paws on the floor beside her head, and using the strength in her 14-foot legs had her propel through the air to dropkick 413 and get to her feet.

The audience roared like they were the luckiest people on earth when Gerard gave Frank a taste of his own medicine, making his mau5 kick Frank’s a little harder than necessary to prevent it from getting up.

He looked over again and smirked like how do you like it? He was a little irked when Frank positively grinned back, not looking even a little pissed.

The referee stepped in to break it up before the match cycled round and round with alternate mau5bots confined to the floor. Gerard had to manoeuvre El back a few paces while 413 picked itself up.
They waited to be counted in again and smashed their controls. Their bots ended up grappling paw to paw, locked in a war of strength. Gerard didn’t see it coming when 413 had ducked one paw, slamming it back upwards in an uppercut and a quick blow to the midsection. Before Gerard could retaliate Frank’s mau5 had ducked and kicked El’s legs out from under her.

The three count passed Gerard in a daze, sucking in breath as the crowd went ballistic.

All of a sudden Gerard felt closed in. He was surrounded on all sides by people screaming for Frank instead of him, and although it made him sick to his stomach, that bothered him. Who the fuck even was Frank? Gerard had been working at this for years but now some smarmy little shit was about to pull the world championships from underneath him? That was bullshit.

Gerard was grateful when the referee informed them there was a 3 minute interval for sponsor messages. He needed time to collect himself. Losing the next round was not an option.

He slid a hand up into his hair, gripping at the roots and tugging lightly, trying to stimulate his brain into formulating a strategy. Strength hadn’t worked. Speed hadn’t worked. Gerard was the one who was well and truly psyched out so mind games weren’t an option. What the fuck was there left?

“I’ve got nothing.”
Gerard had said it mostly to himself but he was still relieved when Mikey’s voice popped up in his ear.
“Hey, stop. Don’t give up just because he got one round over on you. You were just being generous. You can still pull this back.”

Gerard wanted to believe it. Whatever must it be like, he wondered, to be one of his fans at this very moment, watching him splutter and drown before them?

It was absurd how much he’d already been rattled. He tried to bring memories of past victories to mind and came up blank. His last fight felt like months ago rather than the 12 hours that had passed in reality. Why could he find no threads of thought, no tantalising little tangles to tug on to claw his way out of this?

The crowd roared in Gerard’s ears like aggressive tinnitus that would follow him to sleep. And if he could just have a second, just a moment of silence to think. But there was none. There was no time, and the referee was signalling in his direction with a questioning look upon his face; was Gerard ready to continue?

Of course he fucking wasn’t. But he nodded anyway. What else could he do? Ask for more time, let Frank lounge in his chair and know just how deep he’d buried beneath Gerard’s skin? No.

“I’m ready.”
Gerard’s words incited a jubilous cry from the audience that settled in the pit of his belly like ice. He pointedly didn’t look in Frank’s direction as he stroked his fingers back over the controls to coax El back into the centre of the ring.

The second they were counted in for Round 2 Gerard’s fingers flew over the controls. A full-frontal attack was the only game plan he could muster and it caught Frank by surprise, such that the arena was filled with the cacophony of clashing metal as blue paws repeatedly collided with the green cheeks of the opposition.

The crowd were up on their feet, cheering with glee as their hero appeared to be back on top, but Gerard had stopped listening. After a few seconds Frank had recovered from shock and had raised the paws of his mau5 so that the two were once again locked in a grapple of strength.

They remained that way for a little while, struggling against the other until something had to give, and El ducked, coming up with a shoulder block to the underside of 413’s chin. Frank was quick off the mark, steadying his mau5 back on its heels. He used the resulting momentum to roll forwards and hit El with the full force of its body, propelling her closer to the pyramid the two players were encased in.

Gerard’s heart leapt into his throat as he had visions of El faltering and the whole thing being over. He managed to steady her at the last second, preventing the drop and inciting another spike of noise from the crowd. But Frank was too quick. His mau5 had already shifted closer, hitting Gerard’s in the side of the side with a devastating blow. The momentum spun her around so that she dropped to one knee, looming over her user.

“Pick her up, pick her up,” urged Mikey in his ear.
Gerard slammed his hand against his panel, trying to do just that, and was looking upward at the exact moment that Frank misjudged a jab to the back of El’s head, tipping her forward so that she impaled her eye on the pyramid’s point.

The audience began to scream, but Gerard couldn’t hear them over the sound of his own. Acrylic shards glistened in the stage lights as they rained down onto the pyramid’s occupants. Gerard curled up in his chair as much as he could, dropping his controller and using his forearms as an umbrella to protect his head. He could feel the jagged edges slicing into his skin as they bounced off him onto the floor and he felt nauseous as the sound of his blood rushed in his ears.